


Swan Queen: A prior engagement

by orphanswanqueen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Leaving Storybrooke, PTSD, Romance, Stream of Consciousness, Tension, fake engagement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4782908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphanswanqueen/pseuds/orphanswanqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tasked with identifying a mystery thief, Emma asks Regina to go undercover as her fiancée. Although struggling with long-buried demons, Regina reluctantly agrees and they travel over the town-line. Together they sift through clues about what the thief took from Gold's shop, and are forced to examine their troubled back-stories, fragile emotions and feelings for one-another. Will the sheriff and the mayor be able to keep up the marital charade long enough to sleuth some answers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warmth, love and light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma's feelings for Regina are established as she finds an excuse to spend more time with her. The two bond over a small accident in the kitchen and Regina offers Emma a drink to discuss the mission ahead. Told via Emma's POV.

Emma felt her stomach flutter as she found herself caught in Regina’s gaze. She hated getting butterflies, they made her fearful and panicky. Lowering her head back down to face the sheet of paper she was clutching, Emma read over the same line again and again, not taking in its meaning as she replayed their last conversation in her head.  _Had she been too obvious?_ Fair enough, it was her  _dad’s_  idea to bring in Regina as a partner on this case but the rest was her doing.

It was all fun and games at first, Regina was in high spirits because teaming up with the sheriff meant she had a new enemy to destroy and plenty of fodder for sassy remarks. “Who is it this time?” Her Majesty had asked when initially approached about the mission, a dismissive eye-roll softened by a smile.

“Not sure who they were, sorry  _are_ , in the Enchanted Forest but we need to know what they took from Gold’s shop. David’s pretty sure they’re the thief.”

“Because Charming’s never been mislead before… Okay how do we find this guy?”

That was the tricky part, they needed to cross over the town line and get to know this person, find out what they took and recover it without magic. It was going to require some proper sleuthing and Emma knew Regina was the only person other than herself who knew enough about the ‘land without magic’ to help her. Gold might’ve been useful if he wasn’t currently in a coma but Regina was the best option by far: she was brave, honest and even though she had a dark side, Emma could trust she’d do the right thing which was more than could be said for Gold.

The fact that spending an indeterminate amount of time with Regina was a far more pleasant prospect than listening to the dark one prattle on about world domination had also crossed her mind, she couldn’t deny.

“We need to go undercover,” Emma’s insides were squirming again.  _What was wrong with her?_   She felt her face redden as she nervously tapped her fingertips on the pillar she was leaning against, picking at the uneven marble. Regina’s porch suddenly felt like a stage where the glare of too many eyes were making her palms sweat. She became very conscious that she was grasping sheets of paper a little too tightly in her right hand. “He works at a private school in Boston so I’ve booked us an appointment to view his school as Henry’s moms.”

“So he’s an outsider then. Will that give us enough time to scope him out?” Regina gave her an earnest, sparkly-eyed look that settled Emma’s nerves momentarily. She reminded her so much of Henry, captivated by a new mission.  

“It’s a way in but we might have to get creative once we’re there - what do you think?” She handed Regina a sheet of paper. It was a copy of the fake enrolment application she’d already sent off to the school.

“This says we’re engaged?”

“Yeah,” she tried to sound strong and sure and matter-of-fact but she was caught in Regina’s gaze again, how one woman’s raised eyebrow could fill her with so much doubt she’d never know. “Don’t worry Regina, it’s the safest option. It’ll mean less questions are asked when we get there.”

“Right.. I suppose two gay moms are a hell of a lot easier to explain than Rumpelstiltskin helping the Evil Queen adopt the Saviour’s son.” She rolled her eyes again lightly, she was amused much to Emma’s relief and began waving the paper in the air to punctuate her point. Then she folded it up, slipped it inside her blazer pocket and held her arms out ushering Emma inside with breezy exclamations about how cold Storybrooke nights are getting.

The mayor’s home was like stepping into sunlight on a snowy day, it had an inside glow that felt almost christmassy and a rich smell of baked cinnamon drew them towards the kitchen.

“I was just making some scrolls for Henry’s class tomorrow,” the words tumbled out of Regina’s mouth as she ducked down to pull them out of the oven. “They look pretty done to me, I’ll just leave them here to rest. Shall we have a drink and go over the details? For the appointment… Ouch!” She yanked her hand away from the baking tray as it dropped to the counter with a loud clatter.

Emma grimaced, “Did you burn yourself? Quick, put your hand under the cold faucet.” She left the papers on the kitchen island and moved closer to Regina by the sink, surveying the damage.

“It’s not bad, it’s just painful. What a mess.” Although she was smiling, Emma could tell her new partner was in pain. There were tears building up in Regina’s eyes and her usual stony face looked fragile as she stared at the ceiling, holding her palm under the freezing water.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make us a drink and you’ll forget all about it. Shall I try healing it?” Emma tentatively touched her arm and gave her a comforting smile.

“Do you think you can? Liquor cabinet is in the lounge by the way, but grab an orange from the fridge and we’ll make cocktails,” she nodded toward the other side of the kitchen, chocolate strands of hair falling briefly into her eyes. “Thanks Miss Swan,” she smiled again as Emma fished some fruit and a bottle of soda water out of the fridge.  

They sat together on the couch, Emma placed her glass on the coffee table as Regina took a few hearty sips from her own drink. “Just in case you accidentally remove my arm,” she quipped, deadpan as ever.

“Let me see your hand,” Emma smiled lightly. Regina’s fingers felt cold from the water as she clasped them in her own and she could feel her wrist trembling as she closed her eyes and focussed. She felt a familiar surge of warmth, love and light before opening her eyes with a shudder. She looked down. The angry red burn was no longer there. Emma gently ran her thumb over the slightly raised but shiny, new skin. “I did it?”

“You did it,” Regina beamed, squeezing Emma’s hand for a brief moment. “Now let’s drink. How are we going to pull off this hair-brained scheme of yours?” Still tingling from the surge of magic, Emma sipped her drink and pulled out the papers. It was going to be an interesting ride, this case. 


	2. A fragile chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Emma's visit, Regina wakes deeply troubled by her past. As she struggles to prepare herself for what might lay ahead, Emma is confused about how to handle her new partner's grizzly mood. Regina’s POV written in the style of a stream of consciousness.

_It wasn’t what she’d asked, it was how she waited for my answer. How she looked at me. Like I wasn’t wounded. Like we were meant to reach into the void and find each other._

_***_

Head throbbing.  _Water, I had water somewhere._  Palm pressed over her eyes, she felt for her glass in the aching darkness.  _Not again._  Every morning she woke with searing pain; shivering with sweat, cheeks wet with tears. She couldn’t remember the nightmares but she felt the terror they left behind in her soul; the aftershock.  _Their hearts will never know peace_ , the mayor knew,  _and neither will I_. She had taken so many.

Breathing deliberately, she forced herself to slug down her water and tried to quell violent shivers by relaxing the muscles in her back.  _Don’t be a child, tears don't cure._  Her mother’s voice smacked like a whip.  _I don’t get to cry for them_ , she knew.

It was only 4am but her nightdress was soaked through so she pulled herself up gingerly with the trepidation of a small child.  _Into the shower._  Today was day one, she had to  _get it together_.

                                                                 _***_

Snow was falling as Emma arrived, delicate and soft. Regina couldn’t draw her gaze away from the window for moments at a time. She saw whispers of her father in the glass. He loved the snow. They had danced in it together, once upon a time.  _I had almost forgotten that._

“Regina?”

 _Why did we stop dancing?_  Her father’s royal velvet jacket always felt warm against her cheek in the chilly windswept air. When her five-year-old feet were numb with cold from stepping in the snow he lifted her up, twirling and chuckling as she begged for more dizzy music, more festive song.  

“Regina, shall we go over it again?”

A warm hand landed softly on her shoulder. For the briefest time she let herself believe it was him, but turned to face a pair of wide, quizzical green eyes. Emma.

“I think I have it Miss Swan. We’re getting married in the spring and would like to move closer to the city so we’re looking for Henry to start school in the fall.”

“Right. There shouldn’t be too many questions so just keep it simple like that. We need to find a way into his office once we’re there.”

Regina flashed a smile to prove she was on-board but avoided eye contact, leaving that mossy gaze by the door to collect her coat. There was a fragile chill in the air today.

Pretending to be engaged wasn’t a completely new concept for Regina. She’d pretended a lot of things over the course of her life.  _Pretend you love him and you’ll be a real queen_ , her mother had told her with gleaming eyes and a wide grin.  _Pretend you love him._  She glanced at herself in the closet-door mirror as she pulled on her coat. A deep nausea curled in her stomach. She wanted to throw-up; evacuate all the disgust and foul history before meeting those green eyes again but she knew she couldn’t.

Emma’s little bug rattled and whirred as they trundled out of Storybrooke. Regina focussed on the soft, pale skin peaking out from her partner’s red driving gloves as she spun the wheel erratically.

“I could enchant the car to drive us, you know.”

“What are you trying to say?” her playful, faux-offended tone wasn’t quite enough to make Regina crack a smile. “Your magic won’t work beyond the town-line your majesty, so you’re stuck with my expert driving. Just pretend we’re in a bumper car if that helps,” she mock-laughed, beaming. 

They turned a sharp corner and Regina couldn’t stop herself from tensing up. Hands wringing, she nervously pinched the skin between her fingers.  _Pretend_. Her mother was cackling somewhere in the back of her mind as she tried to focus on the snow gathering in the corner of the windshield. She could feel the anger rising inside, baiting her, teasing. She started to feel like her blood was too thick, like she’d never be comfortable again, like she was hot and cold, dying and being born at the same time.  _Why can’t I ever have something real?_

“Emma I don’t know why you’re making me do this.”

“Reg-”

“It’s completely ridiculous, this whole thing is  _impossible_. It’s freezing… we’re missing the snow, Henry loves the snow! and for what? Some half-cocked plan about scoping out a yuppie workhouse. Why don’t we just lure him to my vault and let me do what I do best - skin the rat.”

Emma’s cheeks flushed red, eyes glued to the road ahead under a newly furrowed brow. “Regina, we need to work together on this. No good killing off a thief when you don’t know what he’s taken.”

“I just… don’t want to be here right now.” A crestfallen pause stretched between them.

“Well… It’s no picnic for me either but you know… It’s not about us. We just need to… get it over with.”

Silence stifled Regina’s malaise for a moment. She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly, indignantly, shaking her head. A face swam to the front of her mind; balding, round, out of breath and laughing. _How was he always so happy to be near me?_  Had she played her part so well that he didn’t sense her skin crawl every time they touched? Snow had her father’s laugh. Regina’s eyes flickered over her left to see a thoughtful, wearied expression occupying Emma’s face. She felt a twinge of something unfamiliar at the sudden thought of Emma’s laugh. She’d only heard it once or twice but it was the opposite of Snow’s. Quiet, small at first but it deepened with every breath, morphing into a hearty, infectious giggle. It reminded her of Henry’s. She missed his laugh more than anything.

Teenagers were a tough nut to crack. She melted at the memory of her roly-poly little boy wriggling in fits of bawling laughter as she tickled him awake after a nap. Emma, she unexpectedly realised while watching her clumsy attempts to tug a driving glove off with her teeth, would never get to kiss his rosy toddler cheeks or smooth his soft brown baby curls. The thought of missing out on that weighed heavily on Regina as she tried to focus on why she’d agreed to take part in this insane plot yesterday. Everyone deserved a happy ending; they couldn’t let some thief stand in the way of that.


	3. Hushed sadness creeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Regina arrive at the school, made to lean on each other as they unravel a mystery rooted in misery. Will they be brought together or pushed apart as detective work forces them to confront childhood traumas?

A lolling haze between sleep and consciousness leaves the mind at a curious distance from touch. Interpreting the tentative stroke of skin on skin is abruptly muddled by dreamy fears and hopeful comfort. When Regina felt gentle warmth brush against her cheek in such a sleepy state, she felt soothed as though given permission to recluse further into unconsciousness but she also felt a murky pang of anxiety erupt in her abdomen at the prospect of losing control. Light pressure swiped from the left side of her forehead, tucking loose strands behind her ear. Suddenly aware she was leaning on a car door, Regina opened her eyes and felt around for her seatbelt, cheeks burning.

“Hi…” a green-eyed smile pulled her back into the world.

“Hi,” Regina spotted a paper cup in Emma’s outstretched hand. “You got coffee.”

“You fell asleep,” their fingers made brief contact as regina sheepishly took the cup. “I think you wore yourself out, you seemed really anxious.”

“I’m fine Miss Swan… I didn’t sleep well,” she added, receiving another quizzical look.

Emma let the silence grow as Regina sipped gratefully on her coffee. It had been a long, quiet drive from Storeybrooke. She had watched fleetingly in the reverse mirror as her partner’s furious brow grew sad and still, then full of fear as she slowly wandered into sleep. The radio had been playing a slow meandering song that seemed to settle Regina into her thoughts for which Emma was grateful because they needed to get to Boston without dissenting into a feud.

She would give her newly woken partner a few moments to readjust, then they’d head across the street to check out the school. The appointment Emma had made was with one Professor Dawkins, although she had yet to deduce what kind of professor he actually was… They were a good twenty minutes early so they had time to do a quick sweep if Regina was up to the task.

“Were you worried about today?”

“Miss Swan, why would I have worried about today? Honestly, if you took half as much interest in your marks as in my sleeping habits we’d have the thief in custody by now.”

Regina finished the last of her coffee and the two exited the vehicle; Emma’s smiling eye-roll going largely unnoticed as they hurried across the street.

Mudfog Preparatory School was a stark, hulking mound of a building that filled the entire block.  Emma grazed the cold grey brick with her right palm as they scaled the last corner. Stunted weeds and odd pieces of litter gathered where the wall met a seven-foot steel fence topped with barbed-wire. Beyond the fence was a small playing field, though Emma noticed it more closely resembled a prison field. She didn’t plan on sharing that insight with Regina.

Apart from the traffic noise filtering in from the road, the school was eerily still. The playing field was empty apart from a gaggle of young boys hiding behind a shed-sized metal container. No doubt they believed themselves well hidden but unfortunately the light pillar of smoke, occasional jangle of boot against metal and raspy teenage snickering caught Emma’s attention. She tilted her head in their direction, smirking at Regina who rolled her eyes lightly.

Holding a delicate leather glove under her nose to mask the sickening smell of vegetable oil emitting from the school vents, Regina realised with a further pang of humiliation that it must be nearly lunch time. She had slept for several long, shameful hours in the car next to Emma. It was stomach-curdling. How long had she tried to wake her? Regina watched as her companion pressed her face between the cold steel railings, an arm reaching through the fence, wavy blonde locks dusting the floor as she knelt in the gravel.

“What are you doing?” she said in a loud whisper.

“It’s… I’m…” breathy attempts at a response fell to the wayside as Emma continued pulling up a patch of tall yellowing grass with her out-stretched fingers. She pressed down on damp earth with a puzzled look on her face, then smiled.

“This isn’t a playing field.”

“Miss Swan of course not, it’s barely a field.”

“It’s a hiding place.”

“Clearly-” Regina motioned sardonically to the gaggle of teens now falling out from behind the container. One of them spotted Emma crouched behind the fence and wolf-whistled, a smaller pointy-faced boy started to run in their direction.

“Quick we need to go,” Emma’s pale, muddy hand grabbed Regina’s and pulled her back from the fence. Breaking into a run as they dodged around the corner of the school, Regina’s grip tightening.

Stopping to catch their breath once they had reached the front door, Emma grinned. “You ready to go in?” Oddly refreshed from their dash around the building, Regina nodded. “Emma…”

“I’ll tell you once I know for sure but I have a hunch this guy’s hiding his stash inside now. Keep an eye out for any locked rooms or cabinets, or a maintenance room like with gardening tools.”

“What do you think he’s taken?”

“I’m not sure yet but I don’t think he knows how to use whatever it is if he’s been hiding it on school grounds.”

“There’s something about this place, Emma,” her eyes shone with honest fear. “It’s seen dark magic.”

“But how is that even possible? We’re in ‘the land without magic’,” she inflected with air quotes.

Regina shrugged and drew her gaze upwards, to the latin scrawl carved in stone above the doorway. “Did you notice there are bars on the windows?”

“Yeah-”

They looked at each other with mutual concern, a hushed sadness creeping through as Regina motioned towards the door. They both knew what it was like to grow up with bars on your window.

As they crossed the threshold, a wave of heavy despair passed through Emma like a ghost. She let out a strangled gasp, clinging to the rough stone with one hand, clawing the back of Regina’s coat with her other as she sunk to her knees.

“Emma!”

Squeezing her shoulders upright, Regina felt Emma’s head fall softly against her chest as she drifted in and out of consciousness. She could see her panicked eyes strain to open, eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Water… Please could you get some water for my… fiancée,” she stammered at the mousy, young receptionist who was bolting across the lobby, hand pressed to her mouth in shock.

Propped up against the stone, Regina held Emma’s hand tightly, gently rubbing her wrist in little circular motions. Pallid and fighting the overwhelming urge to fall unconscious, Emma slowly hauled herself awake although her eyes were unable to focus, vision blurred. She felt cold glass press against her lips and gentle hushing as someone urged her to drink.

“What happened?” the receptionist asked Regina with easy apprehension.

“A fainting spell, she mustn’t be feeling well. Can we re-arrange the appointment with Professor Dawkins?”

“Of course Madam, I’ll see what we have available next week-” the little mouse  looked ready to scurry back to her desk when Emma started to pull herself up, holding out her hand, which moments before she was mildly surprised to find clasped in Regina’s, for someone to help her stand.

“I’m fine, let’s just do the meeting now. Are we late?” Regina yanked timidly on her arm as Emma rose and leant briefly on the stone wall.

“Emma this isn’t right, what was that? We should just reschedule,” she found herself whispering unsubtly.

“Regina, it can’t wait…” Emma hastily returned. “We’re here now aren’t we?” her attempt at lightness directed at the receptionist may have come across strange but it seemed to work. The girl picked up a landline and shot a dismissive smile in their direction.

“Are you alright? You fainted, have you done that before?” Regina’s face was stern and anxious, she gripped Emma’s arm tightly as she spoke.

“I’m fine Regina, honestly. I think it’s just the air in here, why is the heating turned up so high?” Her questions were returned with skepticism. “Don’t give me that look okay we need to get this done.”

“Not if it’s this dangerous. I can go on alone, you should wait in the-”

“No. Regina we’re doing this together, okay? We need two pairs of eyes.”

They both stared at the floor for a few moments, Regina stood back to give her partner some space as they waited for directions to Dawkins’ office. The air was incredibly thick now Regina thought about it, she pulled the collar of her coat down and tucked her gloves into her pockets. The walls of the lobby were unpainted stone, cold and dry while the floor was made up of cracked red tiles. There was nothing warm about the interior, no fires or heating vents, how could the building be so warm? She glanced back at Emma, checking to see whether she looked likely to faint again. Emma stood still and strong but Regina could sense her partner was unnerved, staring at a clock pinned to the right-hand wall ahead of them. It was almost midday.

A bell rang out and Emma shuddered. Exploding yells, scrabbling and scuffling shoes sounded as a trail of excitable boys swarmed out from the corridor ahead, thumping down stairs, throwing themselves into the dining hall through wide double doors that lay beneath the clock. Regina tapped her on her shoulder and motioned towards a chair around the corner from the reception desk. Emma shook her head but Regina made a ‘tutting’ noise and pulled her over to the seat. They waited and watched as the double doors shook with the force of a hundred or so boys clamouring for food. The clash of cutlery and plates could be heard as the rush began to die down and Regina noticed something in the corner of her eye.

A flash of white-blonde hair was skirting between grey-uniformed knees; a tiny figure shooting out from the crowd, crawling underneath a table-clothed stool; a little hand reaching up to pluck a yellow flower from inside a vase before darting back underneath. Regina smiled to herself curiously. There seemed to be a pocket-sized straggler hiding from the lunch ladies.

“Professor Dawkins is ready to see you both. If you’d like to make your way down to his office, he’ll meet you there.”

Emma picked herself out of her seat and nodded in Regina’s direction, signalling for them to leave. Her cheeks were flushed and she had to steady herself as she stood up a little too quickly but she seemed much sturdier. Regina followed her down the corridor for a few paces, left hand poised behind the small of her partner’s back just in case, but was stopped suddenly when something tugged at her ankle.

Taken aback, she spun around. A pair of sparkling, lime green eyes were waiting for her, wide and unblinking. Tubby, toddler arms wrapped around her leg. The back of her neck tingled. This was no ordinary child staring pointedly into her soul. He had been touched by dark magic.


	4. Born from desolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina tries to help an unusual little soul but finds herself revisiting the tortured emotional state that marked her own childhood.

Sometimes the smallest voice hurts the loudest. Regina crouched down and looked into the strange little face that would not stop staring at her. Unblinking, his eyes were bloodshot and eyelashes fluttered painfully as though he was all out of tears. Regina glanced quickly behind to see Emma turn a corner down the hall before she reached out to try and comfort the child. He flinched backwards. 

“Are you okay?” she wondered whether she should call over the receptionist, perhaps he was her son. The boy held his hands to his cheeks, still clutching a bright yellow flower in one doughy fist. But he said nothing. 

“Are you lost?” Regina kept her hand outstretched and offered a smile to the youngster, noticing the unnatural bluish tint in his white-blonde cowlick curls. Even without magic she could tell he was all alone. Silently, and with trepidation, a tiny, trembling wrist reached out and placed the tulip stem atop her palm. She looked at the flower, then at him; all rough, reddened cheeks, thin furrowed brows and sad, pouty lips. A long, purple scar trailed from temple to ear lobe on one side of his face. He was the height and build ofa three-year-old but the collected caution on his face made her think he might be a little older. A swell of pity brought tears to Regina’s eyes as she gripped the flower tight and scooped him closer with her other arm, not knowing what else to do. The child was stiff, shell-shocked. He gasped in a way that sounded almost like a squawk, but a gentle tugging on her hair followed as he relaxed into her embrace and started to whimper, shivering as she stood up precariously, still holding him tight. _What happened to this child? What is this place?_

Regina started down the hallway and ducked into the first empty room she spotted. A small office… it would do. Locking the door she tried to sit the boy on a desk but he would not let go. _Different tact._ She sat down on the desk chair and rubbed his back as soothingly as she could manage, desperate to get some answers. “What’s your name?” The boy did not react. “Are you hurt?” He clung to her even tighter. “Who hurt you?” The child was still for a moment, and Regina mentally worked out how soon she could call the police without jeopardising Emma’s investigation, but then he lifted his snowy head and spoke - _well, made a noise_.“Aaarkk.”

“What d-” before she had a chance to finish her question, elfin fingers pressed into her forehead, and she was thrust backwards into the ceaseless past, broken, besieged and rupturing at emotional seams. She relived.

_Shards of mirror glass biting her bare feet on the intricate palace floor; her mother’s face appearing above her bed in the dusky blue moon, heart-shaped and smirking; pinched shallow breaths through the bones of her corset; a spindly, grey-faced minister miming ‘I do’; fearful glancing at the bovine pile of flesh sputtering vows next to her; auric, malformed teeth colliding with her own, a wet, sour mouthful instead of a kiss; retching every night, for years, flushing out the rich food, wine and royal obligations…_

In the tiny office in the long hallway in the fortified brick school, the little white-haired boy hid underneath a desk, gravely watching the woman who had picked him up convulse and stiffen, fall deeper and deeper into a frantic void.

_A hooded figure peeking from the shadows shooting tiny sparks of magic out into the night sky; snow falling, merry, light but piling up on window sills and embrasures, blocking out the sun and stars; her own reflection, glacial and remote, staring dead-eyed back from every fractured looking glass; scaly green glitter and a charcoal smile feeding her spite with morsels of premonition; dreams of freedom bewitched with delusions of power…_

The boy crawled toward the door and pressed a palm tight against the wood. _No._ The floor shook and a chunky landscape painting dropped to the floor with a loud clash right next to him. Beads of anxious sweat trailed silently down his nose. Her hand was twitching, crushing the long green flower stem he had wanted her to have. Afraid to touch her skin, he slowly pulled the tulip from her dead grip and pressed the petals gently to his cheek, watching her face contort through whatever it was she was seeing. 

_Maleficent’s threadlike fingers weaving sultry elation through her veins with every needle, spell and carnal charm; her mess of salty blonde curls dusting the floor as the weight of delirium consumed them both; depraved words, scrawled in poison, born from desolation and  a dragon’s dying flame; cursed words wrenching her manic delusions into a reality; purple smoke, a grotesque masquerade and a vault of florid hearts…_

Regina’s eyes sprang open, bloodshot; her eyelashes flickered then steadied with one, single thought. “Emma…”

 


	5. It’s Miss Swan, by the way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma is left to meet with the headmaster alone. As the plot thickens, she feels the void left by her suddenly missing companion.

There were three notable oddities in Professor Dawkins’ office. _Number one: candles._ Not a lightbulb to be seen, but Emma could count at least eight candle wicks in this room. None were lit. _Two: there were no books anywhere in the professor’s office._ Granted, the only other professor Emma knew was technically a cricket… _Wait, is Archie even a professor? I don’t think it counts if you get all your qualifications from a curse…_ But his office was always filled with books on every imaginable topic related to his field. She dabbed her clammy forehead with the back of her hand as she took a seat opposite the headmaster. _Three: the faintly metallic whiff of blood._ Still no windows or vents but her eyes were drawn to a long, thin scrap of wood laying like a threat in the middle of his otherwise empty desk. One might have been fooled into wondering whether it was a wand, especially after spending the last _God knows how long_ in a magical town, but the reddish tint gleaming slightly on its underbelly told another, darker tale. _Where’s Regina?_

“I thought your wife was coming along too Mrs Swan,” he scratched the scruff of his neck with a roughly bitten fingernail as he lied. A raspy, honeyed voice echoed somewhere deep in the back of Emma’s mind. **_Miss_** _Swan._ “She’ll be here soon,” Emma smiled unconvincingly, trying to steady the waver in her voice as she reaffirmed: “It’s _Miss_ Swan, by the way, we’re _engaged_.”

“Right, of course. Apologies!” He clapped his hands and reached into a drawer, scrabbling about for something. But Emma reached for her back pocket… _Gone_. Did she drop it when she fell? _Ugh, it’s probably in the car._ She groaned inwardly at the memory of coffee and Regina’s sleepy silence. _How could I have left all the paperwork in the car._  

“What facilities do you offer?” she blurted, drawing his attention away from Regina’s absence. 

“Wonderful facilities and growing all the time. Our indoor multi-purpose court has just been finished and that’s fully equipped for all kinds of sports whether your boy is interested in badminton, tennis, hockey, football…”

“What about your outdoor facilities… the field?” Her eyes darted briefly over to the sparse, candle-laden shelves lining his office walls; a lone, dying plant sat in a squalid corner next to an ornate tea tray.

“Yes, of course, we have that too. Out of action at the moment… you know, from flooding,” a scabby little finger rose to scratch his chin on cue. 

“Right…Henry’s more the bookish type of kid anyway… Did the flooding affect any other areas?”

“Well, we have had trouble with power cuts but it’s all getting seen too, not to worry.”

“Ah,” she attempted a jovial shrug. “Don’t we make a great pair? I’ve left my paperwork behind and you can’t find your…” she lowered her gaze, realising she wasn’t actually sure what he was searching for… there wasn’t so much as a book, pen or shred of paper anywhere in the office at all. “Lost your words as well, _Miss_ Swan?” he spat malice. Dust, quaking walls, crumbling stone; a bang that came from somewhere behind. Dawkins flew at her from across the desk, shoving her to the ground. “What are you doing?”

Emma bashed the hard ball of her palm into his jaw, willing white light to throw him back into the shuddering wall and broken shelves but nothing happened. He drew a stubby thumb to his cheek, spat out a hunk of blackened blood and before she fully realised what _hadn’t_ happened, he threw a fat, hairy fist in her direction. She swerved but he caught her ear with a fierce ringing slam. 

The professor was an odd little man; she thought dazedly, watching the room spin, all torso with stubby round legs, almost no neck and the smallest nose she’d ever seen on a fully grown man. He smelled strongly of old fingernail scum and musty carpet. It drowned her in memories of hiding from her first foster father in an old car boot. Big, thick tufts of black hair sprouted out from each nostril, quivering every time he snuffled and spat more blood. She wasn’t planning on letting him land another punch. 

Yanking half a plank of jagged, broken shelf she whacked him as hard as she could, flat into the crook of his knee then jabbed it into his paunchy gut. He looked at her quizzically for a second, underneath a sweaty brow, before he finally slowed with a keening yelp, dragging a scrap of paper out from a dusty blazer pocket and throwing it at her feet. _Ubi sun privilegia, it looked like_ the same latin scrawl Emma noticed outside the school entrance. _Great, I have no idea what that means… Regina where are you?_ One of them was not-so-secretly a bookish nerd with a penchant for dead languages and it certainly wasn’t her. 


End file.
